Such Horrible Things
by Many A Mistake
Summary: All bad ideas have a beginning, this is just another one.


Chapter 1: The Abnormality.

Well this was always going to happen, lets see what Eobard has been doing behind the scenes all this time. This story will take place across both Doll House and The Line as well as a few other stories in the monochrome Universe.  
You don't strictly need to have read any of the others to understand this one however so have fun.

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All things considered, Barry Allen was a remarkably ordinary individual.

So much so that for the first few years of his life, Eobard Thawne very seriously considered the possibility that he was observing the wrong young man.

There was nothing particularly outstanding in his childhood. He was no stronger or faster than the other children, admittedly he was above his peers in average intelligence but this time's idea of a genius was nothing more than child's play in his own timeline. Thus even that trait appeared unexceptional to Eobard's watchful gaze.

As a child Barry commonly got into trouble. Grazed knees, foolish adventures that resulted in a scolding, and more than one altercations with the stronger kids in his age group. Frequently Eobard had watched Barry run, little legs pumping as fast as they could, away from older kids. Sometimes he was fast enough – most often he was not.

The sight was so absurd considering what he would one day become that even Eobard had to crack the occasional smile when the boy proved to be too slow.

No matter which way he cut it, Barry Allen didn't show a single shred of potential for what he would be. There were few people in this century that did, but of all the humans alive in this time line – Barry Allen came in at the bottom of the list.

That was why Eobard found himself feeling a constant niggling of anxiety pulling at the back of his mind. It drew him back to the century time and time again, not daring to move ahead too far in the timeline on the slim chance that something drastic may change should he look away for a second. The fear that Barry might subject himself to something incredibly stupid and get himself killed or maimed was an ever-present concern.

If the boy lost his legs before he even had the chance to really see what he could do with them, all of Eobard's efforts would be a moot point.

It had been a particularly dreadful day when Eobard realised that he _needed_ this incredibly mundane person to live.

Having been in the habit of simply erasing problems before they had enough life in them to _be_ a problem – it was quite a shock to his system to learn that he couldn't simply blot out the Flash's existence. Even if he was not yet the Flash.

Rookie mistake honestly.

The Flash had – in a sense – moulded Eobard into the person he currently was. Of course if Barry Allen wasn't there to be struck by lightening and create a long line of speedsters – then the Reverse Flash could never hope to exist.

Eobard had felt himself very nearly blink out of existence when he'd tried to kill the young man moments before the lightening bolt collided with his body. Mixing chemicals and what could only be considered a colossal amount of luck, together to create the world's first fastest man.

It had truly been a terrible moment where his eagerness to destroy his long time nemesis almost wrote him out of history.

He had been so new to this, still learning how to easily manipulate the negative speedforce to his will and move through time freely. Mistakes were a given – but an error in judgement that huge couldn't be brushed off. He had to be cautious.

That night he'd been furious and just a touch afraid. He destroyed everything he got his hands on, just trying to channel some of his rage into his hands to get rid of it. After many hours of ruining everything he touched, Eobard finally forced himself to calm enough to think properly. Even then his body had still been thrumming with access energy.

He couldn't kill the Flash that was out of the question if he wanted to continue existing. However there were other things he could do in order to feed his constantly raging hatred for the man that had wronged him. So he went back again and with one little thing at a time, he took apart the Flash's childhood.

Having decided to start from the very first day. Eobard was there when Barry Allen saw his first day of life and from that point on, he was always there. First it was small things, little inconveniences and tragedies to keep the child from being perfectly happy. It was interesting to see how such trivial things could ruin a five year old's week.

But it was never enough. Barry could always turn to the comfort of his parents – of his mother. As long as Barry had her, he'd been able to smile - and so she had to die.

Eobard still remembered that day. It had been a coincidence that he arrived on Nora Allen's birthday. The house had been decorated in cheap, colourful items. Streamers and banners declaring that she'd lived another year on this earth. None of them made note of the fact it would be her last.

He'd paused to look at these small items of adoration that the father and son had no doubt set out for her. The woman in question had been pulling out a cake, intended more for her son than for herself. Mothers in this era had the strangest habit of doing things for their children on days meant for themselves.

She never saw him, even as he took the knife from the counter and approached her from behind. Eobard knew that this had to be a scene; he wanted Barry to see the blood, the destruction. But this woman had done nothing to really garner his ire and as he strode towards her with the knife in his clenched hand – Eobard made a choice of mercy.

Perhaps mercy was too kind a word as he drove the knife into her chest. One arm locked around her throat and the other curled around her chest to push the blade past flesh and muscle, straight into her heart. He'd opted to be efficient and distant from the action, he could set the scene after the woman had stopped breathing.

So rather than let her see him, register the danger and fight for her life – Eobard took it quickly.

It may have been a mercy given out of convenience but Eobard thought that perhaps this was a kindness he gave because this woman was – indirectly – the reason he was the Reverse Flash. He could only exist if Barry did and Barry Allen was born because she'd fallen in love with the right man.

Eobard chose to see this as a gesture of gratitude as the woman's weakly clawing fingers began to slacken against his arm. She'd be gone in a matter of seconds and Eobard did not slow them to enjoy her death as he might have with more entertaining kills. Nora Allen left this world never knowing why she had to die or who'd done it – but her son would know one day. When Eobard felt happy to tell him.

Setting the scene up after that was very nearly boring. The police force of this century was hardly impressive, their technology too ancient and their ethics flimsy. Nothing like the police from his time period – they proved to be an obstacle for him more than once.

It was easy enough to set the room to look like there was a struggle, easier still to place blame on the husband. Even if they suspected someone else was involved his name wouldn't crop up for another decade or so and even then he'd be Reverse Flash – not Eobard Thawne.

Then just as he always did, Eobard sat back to observe the effects of his choices. This may have been the biggest risk he'd taken since he began this whole endeavour. Killing his mother, framing the father and sending Barry into the darkest place he possibly could during his childhood – that would have long lasting effects into his adult years.

There was every chance that Eobard could push just a little too much, just a little too hard and the boy would break. Should that happen – he'd never become the Flash and Eobard would be left with the same problem he'd sought to rectify early in his time manipulation experiments.

Barry did break down.

The child fought the adults at every turn. Insisting his father could never do the things they accused him of – true not that it mattered to this century's adults. Barry was just a damaged child that couldn't understand reason after all. So he screamed himself hoarse and never once was he actually heard by anyone besides Eobard. This alone was amusement enough most days. The sick irony of the whole situation was not lost on Eobard.

There were tears, screaming and then silence.

It was a crushing, all consuming sort of silence that even Eobard could feel the weight of whenever he watched Barry. Admittedly he had extremely limited experience with children, however he thought that this unnatural stillness and silence must have been unusual. Especially for children of this century when rules were so flimsy and childhood given much more freedom.

Had it not been so deeply satisfying to see his sworn enemy this miserable – Eobard may have found this behaviour to be unsettling. The other adults seemed to find it unnerving – perhaps that was why the foster care system passed him around so freely.

Even after sleep took him, Barry did not seem restful.

Nightmares plagued the child and on the odd occasion when Eobard would stand in Barry's room of the month, there were moments when the boy's fitful sleep habits would almost catch Eobard off guard. The moments when, without warning, the boy opened his eyes in a blind panic – Eobard could be startled. But never caught.

When time could be slowed to a crawl, Eobard hardly needed to concern himself with others moving at a strictly humans speed. Knowing this the shock only lasted a few seconds before Eobard calmed and left the room before Barry even realised he was there at all. Sometimes – when he was feeling particularly vindictive or bored – Eobard might have lingered. Just long enough for Allen to catch a flash of yellow – just enough to leave a lingering sense of unease and doubt in the boy who could not keep up with the speedster's movements.

At times he almost forgot that this incredibly normal boy would one day become his enemy. On those nights Eobard found himself disinterested as he watched over Barry. Looking at the boy without so much as a single passing sentiment.

It was just a boy in front of him. Just Barry Allen – not the Flash.

These moments were fleeting but when they did come, they hollowed out Eobard's insides. Leaving only an icy numbness where his hatred had once coiled so comfortably.

Frequently he startled out of those moments, running through his memories. The wrongs Flash had committed against him. The horrible crack of another version of himself having his neck snapped. Every thwarted plan or ruined idea. The crushing realisations that his childhood hero despised him and was destined to one day kill him – all of the things that kept his anger alive.

Needless to say that numb feeling was easily chased away.

But it wasn't Barry that it was directed towards – it was still the Flash. The man he _would_ become. His anger could wait, his hatred could be patient. One day the Flash would be running again and until Eobard was free to kill him – he could suffice with the torment of Barry Allen.

…

Years passed quickly and the boy became a man. He chased after Eobard's shadow.

It was almost as flattering as it was ironic to watch the soon to be Flash hunting after him, much like he'd once pursued after the Flash's image in childhood. Allen left school as an exceptionally bright and motivated teenager and immediately threw himself into forensics, looking for ways to prove his father's innocence.

Eobard watched the many long nights Barry would pull, studying and working to make sure he was the best he could possibly be. Despite this era's limitations, Barry was admittedly a very smart young man. The stupid child Eobard remembered had been chased away and replaced with this troubled but brilliant youth.

The police force barely knew what to do with him, didn't appreciate the intelligence they had with them. But still Barry had lit up when informed that he was accepted into the Central City police force. He didn't care that they didn't truly admire him for what he currently was or would be, endured their disinterest and idiocy far better than Eobard ever could have.

He recalled his own frustration in his youth. The idiots that had him in their midst had been much the same, didn't understand the genius of his design, of his study. They'd even gone so far as to call his study of the speedforce illegal. Blind fools, Eobard tolerated them as best he could but even his patience had its limitations.

Barry might not have minded the lack of foresight but Eobard was plenty frustrated for the both of them.

Soon they'd see what Eobard was able to see. The man he would be was just under the surface, the hero that Eobard had struggled to see in the child was only one accident away from bursting into existence.

Soon they'd all see.

It was during these years of Barry's life that Eobard was content to take a step back. Fade into the background and ease off on his interference. Barry was on the right path and Eobard could almost feel the speedforce reaching out of him. Willing the young man to finally set it all into motion. He was feeling it too as the days grew nearer, the anticipation of what was to come.

Perhaps he was a little too caught up in the excitement of it all because Eobard found himself making jumps larger than he ought to. Coming back out of the speedforce with months at a time between his visits. He'd waited long enough, endured plenty and kept an exceedingly close eye on Barry all this time – surely he could be allowed this small luxury as the time drew nearer?

He remembered the date better than that of his own birthday. The numbers burned into his mind, he'd read over them countless times in his youth. His young mind conjuring up ideas of what it looked like when the lightening struck his idol. As a child he imagined it to be a grand affair, the beginning of an age.

In truth it was just another day.

He shadowed Barry to work, watched as he went about his usual day. Still driven and hardworking despite the hopelessness of his father's position. He'd developed quite the hero complex long before the Flash was ever born. Eobard had encouraged it of course, just enough tragedy to keep the threat of failure and feelings of inadequacy fresh but just enough opportunities to do good to keep the hope alive in Barry.

Eobard had balanced it all perfectly awaiting this day.

He was almost disappointed with what he saw.

The storm had rolled in just one time and Barry was still busy working away in the lab. Some criminal from this time had done something pathetic. The crimes in this era were almost all pathetic in some way or another, there was a reason they were barely tolerated in his own time. They wasted everyone's time, just like it was currently wasting Barry's. Of course Eobard could still fondly remember the early days, he had rather enjoyed kicking up his own fair share of trouble. It must have been the young man in him, still stupid with youth.

Barry was focused on his work, so much so that he pulled another late night. Staying well after most of the building had cleared out. Beyond the windows the storm raged on.

He knew that there'd be a ghost of his past here. Lingering just beyond the young scientist's eyesight, giddy with the intent to kill the Flash before he was born.

Eobard scorned his younger self for his foolishness. Tonight would funnily enough be the beginning and the end of this whole affair. The years of watching Barry started when Eobard's former self almost stupidly writes them both out of history in his desire to kill the Flash and it would end as his current self bit back that same urge.

By the time the lightening came his former self had already set out on that endeavour, leaving Eobard to watch the creation of the Flash alone.

It was a sudden burst of light that created the Flash. Lightening struck through the window and hit Barry like a bullet. Eobard had to shield his eyes from the explosion of light. It was like nothing he'd ever seen and given how many timelines he'd jumped from and run through – he had a fairly extensive list of incredible sights.

Lightening was supposed to be random and chaotic. Something that could strike down anyone at any time without bias. But this, this was like a precise strike. As if this particular lightening bolt had been alive and it was racing for Barry Allen all along. As if there was no one else in the world it ever could have struck.

But the moment was just that, a moment, and even with Eobard slowing the scene to a crawl it only lasted a few seconds. The light came and went in an instant leaving a still scene behind. The room was in ruins, the chemicals Barry had been handling lay strewn about and the place Barry had been standing was now singed, all that remained of the lightening bolt.

The man himself lay motionless on the ground. Clothes tattered and still smouldering.

For a terrifying moment Eobard felt a jolt of fear and he approached Barry on instinct. It was a horrifying thought, thinking that maybe that lightening had actually killed the young man rather than created the Flash. Eobard knelt carefully by Barry's side, a thousand different doubts racing through his mind.

Had it all been for nothing? Was he only seconds away from being erased from this timeline because he'd failed in someway? Had the boy he'd been watching over all his life died right in front of him?

But there was not a visible scratch on him and then after a horrible second longer, Barry drew in a breath and Eobard simultaneously let out the one he'd been holding. With a shaky laugh, Eobard cursed Barry under his breath for scaring him.

Everything was fine. Going just as it should be. Barry was alive and Eobard continued to exist.

It was a moment of weakness, brought on by crippling relief and renewed optimism, which had Eobard place his hand atop the unconscious boy's head. Later Eobard would tell himself it was a mockery of a pat, one that an owner might give to a dog that preformed a particularly cute trick.

But for that moment, it was just a gentle, comforted touch.

In a way it was goodbye.

By the time people had come to collect Barry, Eobard had once again vanished back into the speedforce. From there began a familiar cycle of things that would be done and had been done.

He passed over events he'd already participated in. He wasn't there for the day Barry met him for the first time. Although the desire to quietly observe from the background was strong – Eobard pushed on past it. He'd have enough of observing for the time being. He moved past the one or two ill thought out plans involving Iris West and raced right on ahead to the last time he'd encountered the Flash.

In the blink of an eye years had passed and Eobard felt excitement gnawing on his insides. The speedforce coiled contentedly inside his veins, humming with life that for a while had been in a state of flux. He was back where he ought to be.

It was almost jarring to come back to this point in time. To have the boy he'd observed growing into the Flash suddenly know of his existence after all that time of being nothing more than the shadow in the boy's memory.

In the years he'd leapt forward, Eobard found Barry to have aged again. He was truly an adult now. The boy he'd watched fight through nightmares and the teenager he'd observed pining hopelessly after girls, even the young man that had diligently sought after his father's innocence – they were all gone.

He was all grown up now.

Cautious of his own time jump, Eobard approached the now familiar home of the Flash. He would be known to Barry now, there would be cause for more caution now days. The boy that failed to notice him when he woke up late a night would now be easily able to track him.

Eobard grinned despite himself; he had the most ridiculous desire to race Barry now that they were a near match once again.

The house looked much the same, Barry hadn't done any decorating while Eobard was away. The dark interior was just the same, all the lights were off but Eobard recognised the photos that had always hung on the walls and even noted that Barry had failed to throw out that broken sofa. He paused to look at that item of furniture for a few seconds. The damn thing had even acquired a new stain in his absence; it should have been tossed out years ago.

Barry was not currently home it seemed. Eobard glanced outside, the sun had set some time ago and Barry ought to have been home. His late nights had changed location after becoming the Flash. Now he had hero duties to attend to once the sun was down. Eobard considered going looking for the Flash, seeing if one of his many rogues were kicking up trouble.

But Eobard had to quell the desire; he'd need to adjust his approach to Barry now that the man could keep up with his speed. He'd have to keep a distance unless he wanted to be seen.

There were too many desires all at once. He wanted to rush off and pick a fight with the Flash, wanted to see if Barry could still keep up like he used to – see if all those years of monitoring and guidance had changed the boy at all.

All those frivolous ideas were scrapped; just because he'd finished his work it didn't mean he could get careless or indulgent. Barry would be furious with him no doubt and if he caught sight of him there'd be a fight and Eobard didn't have a plan or goal as of yet. There was no need to alert the Flash to his presence until he was ready.

Which was why when he heard even the slightest of movement outside of the dark house, Eobard made himself scarce. He didn't go too far, wanting to see Barry as he was now, but still kept himself well out of sight.

"Are you sure about this?" A hushed voice was asking. The anxious words were not quite a whisper but the tone was kept purposefully low. "Bear…you don't have to."

"You heard the bat." That was Barry's voice. It had deepened since the last time Eobard heard it. Like the second voice it was also kept quiet and gentle. The note of weariness in the tone peaked Eobard's curiosity.

The pair were still outside the house, the sound of their footsteps getting closer before coming to a halt not far beyond the door.

"Bats knows best, ya know?" Barry sighed and Eobard heard a slight shuffling of fabric and a small sound of exertion from Barry.

"Easy there, careful." The other voice urged, tone still anxious. "Look Barry, you're the nicest guy I know bar Supes, but this…"

"Hal." Barry sighed quietly, tone caught between pleading and exhaustion. "I think…I can do this."

"But you don't _have_ to. I could-"

"No offense, Hal – but no way. You're always off planet as it is. Besides, you're not really the kid type."

"Kids love me."

"You _are_ a kid, Hal."

There was a moment of silence and even though Eobard knew it was ill advised, he moved. Wanting a better vantage point Eobard slipped a little closer, hoping to see the pair from the window this time. It was risky, impossibly stupid but he just needed a glance. Of course what he saw hardly helped. The two men stood in civilian clothes on the doorstep, talking back and forth.

He knew now who was outside that door with Barry, the lantern. Hero identities didn't mean much to him of course – most of them had their own books in his era so there was no hiding their true names from him. Jordan had always been depicted as very close to the Flash so it was no surprise the green lantern was here now.

Barry's back was to Eobard and he could just make out the other man's grim expression but he could only guess what sort of face Barry would be making. There was a bundle of fabric in Barry's arms and judging by the way he awkwardly held it, it was heavy.

"If you're sure." Jordan conceded, breaking the silence. "Just don't let that bloody bat force you into anything. He adopts heaps of kids; he could absolutely take one more. God knows he could afford it-"

"Hal." Barry broke in with a reproachful tone. "You know why I'm doing this."

Another pause, and then finally a sigh. "Yeah, I know. That's why it worries me."

Barry's shoulders shook and it took Eobard a second to figure out he was chuckling. Eobard felt the conversation coming to an end and so he eased away from the window and returned a better hiding spot. He'd have to leave soon, knowing that if he lingered too long Barry might just catch onto him. Over the years it seemed that Barry had gotten rather good at figuring out when something was off should the yellow speedster be involved in someway.

Eobard wouldn't go so far as to call it a sixth sense but…

The door suddenly crept open and Eobard caught snippets of a goodbye. Jordan was saying something about coming back and Eobard resisted the urge to groan. He didn't need a pair of heroes lingering but in all likeliness he'd be gone before the lantern returned.

Listening closely he could hear Barry struggling inside. The door slammed shut and Eobard winced. Barry, the overgrown child, had shut it with his foot.

Peering around the corner and down into the living room Eobard watched Barry go about his business. He'd only intended to see the Flash as he was now, see if he had any new scars of obvious changes to his person, but Eobard knew he was taking too long.

At a glance the Flash looked much the same as he remembered. Short blonde hair, messy as always, and a set of bright blue eyes. He was older sure, but didn't look any different to what Eobard expected.

That should have been it, a quick reaffirmation that everything was in its rightful place. A brief check to make sure the timeline had progressed normally. Eobard prepared to leave.

"Welcome home, well I mean…this'll be home for now, little guy." He froze.

Eobard turned back and looked down to see what Barry was blathering on about. He didn't remember Barry adopting a pet in the previous timeline. It wasn't massively important but Eobard refused to be in the dark about anything to do with Barry's life.

Barry had placed down the bundle of heavy cloth onto the lounge – the one that was not broken – and eased himself down onto the arm of that lounge. He'd been incredibly careful with the heap of cloth, which supported Eobard's pet theory, but…well put frankly it was far too large.

Then it hit Eobard. It hit him so hard it might as well have been a physical blow. He'd been stupid not to realise it sooner.

Barry had brought home a _child_.

The conversation at the door abruptly made too much sense and left Eobard blankly staring down onto Barry. Disbelief and something akin to anger curling in his chest. As if he'd been affronted by not being consulted before this sudden change occurred.

Confused and scrambling through everything he knew about Barry, Eobard frantically went over what he knew should have happened while he was in the speedforce. Barry wasn't married yet, hadn't managed to get that far with Iris and while one day they would have two children that was years away from now.

The child that Barry had brought home twitched.

Little dirty hands clenching tight as he shifted restlessly. He seemed to be dead to the world for the most part but Barry, the soft-hearted fool, took the child's movements for ones of discomfort. It was quite the insight to how Allen's mind worked as he tried to comfort the child in his nightmares. He'd never exactly had someone there to comfort him through his own night terrors. Admittedly he'd never been alone with Eobard hovering nearby, but he'd also never been _comforted_.

Barry sat stock still next to the child, as if afraid even the smallest of movements would stir it. The only action he took besides being deathly silent was to reach out and place a simple hand against the child's clenched fist. The contact seemed to do something, seemed like the small human contact was enough to settle the child. Even as this distance Eobard could see the child's little hands releasing the blanket it'd been clutching so tight that their knuckles had turned white.

"It's alright." Barry's hushed voice barely reached Eobard's hiding spot. "Everything is going to be alright. I'm gonna look after you, okay?"

It was a horrid mix of revulsion and confusion that sent Eobard flying from the house that night. This was not expected and for all Eobard's years of carefully planning and pushing this was simply not something he'd factored in. Nothing sat in his stomach quite as heavy and horrible as the knowledge he'd been taken off guard this easily.

He had to pace just to let off the furious energy that threated to bubble over and have him do something colossally stupid. Memories of what his previous hastiness had cost him resurfaced with a vengeance and stayed his hand from any immediate action.

After all, this was not exactly a problem so to speak. Eobard rationalised with himself. Barry was not the bat in the habit of adopting any child within a fifty-mile radius that had even the smallest hint of tragic backstory to them. That child could come and go in an instant and change nothing. Eobard's plans hardly had to change because of this.

And yet…

Eobard paused, having calmed his nerves enough to begin pondering how this particular development could be twisted to his advantage. Just because Barry had finally become the man he remembered it did not mean he would have to back down on his old habits. Rather the opposite, Barry knew of him now, which naturally meant Eobard could take his small tortures further.

No more causing a boy to miss the winning catch at a baseball game. No more simply creating bad days and inconveniences. Broken toys traded for bones, lost friends replaced with gravestones.

His pacing stopped abruptly and Eobard's eyes turned back towards the home he'd hastily left. The lights of the living room had gone out, the only tell that Eobard had been going through his pacing for quite some time.

The frustration he'd felt was gradually drained away, filled with a sort of excited energy that was much harder to drain than his previously furious state. It had been some time since he'd truly been allowed to move freely in such respects. He'd been very careful with how he preceded these past few years, death could be so tricky. Take too much too quickly and leave the boy he'd been monitoring, scarred for life and unable to fulfil his role as the scarlet speedster.

He was an adult now of course and that gave Eobard more reigns to push harder. Barry was less likely to crumble under those same pressures anymore.

This time when Eobard waited, he did so with more patience than Everyday, human Barry Allen simply didn't garner the same feelings of spite as the _Flash_ did.

By the time all the lights in the Flash's home died, Eobard was already beginning to grow agitated. The very second the final light flicked off Eobard was moving. Ever cautious of his newly reacquainted arch nemesis, the man slipped back inside of the house. He didn't reach out into the speedforce anymore than what was strictly necessary.

It may have been a superstition but Eobard felt certain the Flash would feel it if he were to use his speed. The speedforce was something of a greedy creature, feeding off of its hosts and collecting all the bodies it could. When it had been unable to rush through Barry's veins, it had yearned for him and Eobard had _felt_ it. Like a constant nagging feeling curling at the back of his mind every time he laid eyes on the boy, the speedforce wanted Barry Allen and it made its desire quite obvious. He dared not risk having the Flash alerted to his presence in his home that night by tempting that same beast.

The house was impossibly darker once he entered. Not so much as a nightlight left on in the room the child had been deposited into. Eobard didn't rush himself as he surveyed more of the home. This room had been vacant for quite some time; it was a miracle that dust hadn't gathered. Barry so rarely had guests. The only person to frequent this room in recent years would have been lantern. Thankfully the man had not yet made an reappearance, Eobard didn't look a gift horse in the mouth and didn't bother pondering what was keeping the man.

After Eobard passed by the bed for the third time, occupying himself with seeing what had changed over the years – simply satisfying a deep rooted desire to _know_ – he finally took note of the child Barry had foolishly brought home.

The child was rugged up, going far beyond smug comfort and into the potential overheating range of bedding. Barry seemed to have left the child with every blanket he owned and a few more that must have come with the child from wherever it had spawned from.

Taking a closer look, Eobard noted with indifference that the child was a boy. He looked filthy in all honesty; dirt like smudges littered what little skin Eobard could see. It took him a few seconds of closer inspection to realise that it wasn't actually dirt – that was part of the boy's skin. Birth marks perhaps? How unfortunate, they were rather extensive.

Aside from the child's obvious skin marks he was still a mess, littered with small cuts and bruises that were no doubt still forming. Whatever had happened before his arrival in the Allen home must have been quite the adventure and judging by the dried streaks where tears had once fallen – it had not been an enjoyable experience.

Despite himself Eobard was curious.

He wanted to know what could possess Barry Allen to bring this lost looking child home with him. What sort of scenario had prompted this? Not knowing was one of the few things in life that managed to wedge itself further under his nerves than even the Flash did.

In no timeline had Barry done this before and despite a niggling sense that Eobard had seen the child before there was nothing to indicate he'd held any importance in any former timeline. He stared close at the boy's face, trying to pick where he'd seen it, what timeline it was from – if it held any importance he ought to remember – but came up with nothing of substance.

Just that feeling of familiarity.

The bed dipped under his weight as Eobard sat down on its edge, still looking over the curious oddity that Barry had dragged home with him. The child didn't so much as shift in his sleep, he was deep enough into unconsciousness that Eobard could have jumped on the bed and in all probability not awoken the child.

Now Eobard was never a fan of Flash acting without his knowledge or coming up with new courses of action to leave him stumped, but this one might have just been the worst transgression Barry had ever committed. Bringing some miserable child into his home without a hint of forewarning.

Surprises were unwelcome but…well, Eobard would make-do.

The boy was cold under his fingers, icy even through the material of his suit. Eobard almost jerked his hands away, double-checking to see the boy really was still breathing. The small rise and fall of his chest was telling of life but his skin held about as much warmth as a corpse.

Unimportant.

As his fingers wound loosely around the boy's neck Eobard was hit with that same sudden sense of familiarity.

Perhaps it was the scene. The sleeping boy completely unaware of his presence, much like young Barry had once been those nights he slept away with Eobard keeping an eye on him. Those days were long gone now. Remembering all the times he'd watched Barry sleep as a child. The desire to choke the life out of that child had been almost too strong to ignore, but he'd managed to resist at the time. Now his fingers freely curled around this child's throat. No need to hold back.

For a few seconds he simply felt the boy's pulse under his hands, recalled just how fragile a child's neck really was and the sound it would make if he snapped it. He decided not to break the boy's neck. The sound of that particular bone snapping still haunted him. He could be satisfied with slowly strangling the life from the child.

Gradually his fingers tightened around the boy's tiny throat. His body tensed up slightly as if aware of the threat but unable to wake its host to defend himself. The tiny little intake of air sounded almost like a hiss of fear but Eobard knew the child was not awake enough to fear him.

It may have been those nightmares Barry had tried to fend off. Writhing just under the surface. Better yet, perhaps his touch brought them surging back to the surface, countering Barry's earlier attempts to ward them off. Seemed fitting.

Eobard had killed plenty of people, even children made the list. However many if not a majority of his victims were simply written out of existence. Easier work, to delete his enemies from history had always been far more efficient then allowing them to ever grace the planet. But this was not an act of convenience or revenge against this child.

It was simply an opportunity to further inflict suffering onto Flash.

To have this child die while in his care would surely be traumatic. It would leave Flash rattled, guilt ridden and furious – it was perfect. Eobard could not have asked for a better surprise than this.

That didn't mean he wasn't still livid with Flash for having made this a surprise in the first place.

His fingers tightened down on the boy's throat, almost enough to be truly suffocating. Eobard was always a man that had enjoyed his fair share of murders but it had been quite some time since he'd killed someone this young and frankly Eobard could hardly enjoy something this pitiful. The boy looked like he'd barely even lived to begin with, there wasn't any sort of fight or entertainment to be drawn from this particular killing.

It was a simply must.

Then just as the hold he had on the child's throat began to tighten to the point of laying more bruises on the child, he finally stirred. Not quite waking but truly beginning to feel the danger he was in. Eobard was unconcerned by this, fingers tightening down even as the boy's tiny hands clumsily fumbled at his wrists. Begging to be let go.

He watched as the boy began to squirm and gasp, desperately trying to drag air into his lungs. Choking as his very life slipped away and the boy was somehow still unconscious, despite himself Eobard did wonder what had so thoroughly drained the child to have him unable to wake up even now.

Not to save his own life.

"Quite a pitiful little thing aren't you?" Eobard murmured a faint smirk curling on his lips as the child's finger nails bit into his wrist, desperate but ultimately useless.

"Might be a mercy, killing you here." He continued, wondering if the cold skinned boy would turn red in the face before dying. It wouldn't be particularly long now but…the words he'd just spoken gave him reason for pause.

"A mercy…" Gradually the fingers loosened as he considered this. This boy had been dragged in by Barry from god only knows where and while the thought of leaving the child's dead body at the foot of Flash's bed conjured up feelings of delight – it would be an extremely short lived pleasure.

As quickly as the idea was sown, it buried itself deep into his mind and began to grow wildly out of control.

Yes, yes, this was much better. Give Barry time to grow attached, like he'd just gotten a new puppy awaiting a good kicking. The moment it seemed Barry intended to part with the child he'd plan the date and drop the child off at Barry's door when that happened.

Perhaps as time passed, if the child remained in the speedster's life for long enough there would be other opportunities to exploit the pair. A new way of tormenting Flash – well Eobard was almost getting bored with the usual routine. This was a welcome change of pace.

Positively thrumming with excitement, Eobard released the child's neck entirely and watched with manic glee as he choked air back down into his lungs. Eobard leered down at the child as he struggled to get his breathing back under control. The kid was going to be his newest 'gift' to the Flash.

With one hand mockingly resting atop the sleeping child's head, Eobard let his imagination run a little wild with what could be as he mused aloud. "This'll be fun."


End file.
